(30) Days of Forgery
by MyVintageLove
Summary: Drabble challenge on tumblr, taking place in my Art of Forging a Heart verse. Roski.
1. Sunset

**Day #1: Sunset**

* * *

Out of all the rooms in Loki's flat, the balcony was Rose's favourite place. It was huge, with a concrete balustrade large enough for her to sit on it. He had called her crazy the first time she had done so, on an early morning while drinking her tea. But it reminded her of her childhood and climbing trees with Mickey, so she didn't listen to Loki every time he said she was going to fall and break her neck. She never fell anyway.

She sat here that night, feet dangling in space, lost in her thoughts. Loki was late. Not that she kept track of his movements. Not that he had to tell her where he was going. She had made it clear she didn't want to know where he was going, or what he was doing of his days. But he was late – well, later than usual – and it was enough to have her worried. She feared the day another cop would catch him, would throw him in jail. She knew well enough it wasn't the kind of arrest the newspapers talked about, and having him in prison without her knowing was something she dreaded.

She didn't know how long she remained in that position, eyes lost in the landscape of London, until she heard the sound of Loki's boots on the kitchen floor. He rummaged through the cupboard for a while – probably looking for something to eat – then entered the living room. She heard him approaching her but didn't turn her head, not even when he put a blanket around her shoulders. He seemed to hesitate before hugging her from behind and kiss her cheek. She smiled and felt herself blush.

"One day you're going to kill yourself and all I'll have in mind will be 'I told you so'."

It made her chuckle. "The least you could do is call 999 first."

He nuzzled his nose against her neck without answering and they remained that way for a while. The sun was setting, lighting London of oranges and reds. It was Rose's favourite moment of day, watching the city as it was going to sleep, the street lights turned on one by one, the cars going back home, the few lonely walkers on the pavement. It was all so peaceful, far from how busy the city could be during the day. She loved it.

Without even noticing it, she lightly sighed.

"Yes, I mostly bought it for the view."

"Stop reading my mind."

It was his time to laugh as he stood up straight. When she looked at him, he took her hand as if asking her to follow him. She only raised an eyebrow.

"It's a beautiful night. Might as well spend it outside. Come, Rose Tyler, let's go for a walk along the Thames."

He didn't have to ask twice. Her grin was enough of an answer.


	2. Future

Rose's hands were sweaty as she discretely rubbed them on her jeans, hoping Loki wouldn't notice. He had his eyes on the road, hands on the wheel of the little car they'd rent. He kept criticizing how slow it was and whining about how he missed his real, fast, car. If he noticed her uneasiness, he never pointed out, only brushing her neck with his fingers once in a while and smiling at her. She would smile back, awkwardly, then go back to watching the countryside.

It was all green and grass and fjords, but even the breath-taking landscape wasn't enough to make her feel better. Not when she knew what – or, rather, _who_ – was waiting for her at the end of this road. Loki had reassured her for hours, telling her everything was going to be okay, but it never stopped the stomach ache, just like before taking an important exam in school. She even was biting her nails, a habit she had lost years ago. When the sound her teeth on her fingers became too obvious, Loki gently tapped her hand to make her stop.

"It's going to be okay, sweetheart."

"Says the guy who almost pissed himself when he met my da'."

"It's different and you know it. Your father is a cop who worked on catching me for years. She just wants to hug you and bake you wienerbrød."

He smiled at her, in a way that meant the conversation was over, and she hated him for being able to shut her up. As the road was empty on any other car, he even allowed himself to lean toward her and kiss her behind the ear. It made her smile, even nervously.

It took them twenty minutes before the asphalt road became a gravelly path, and five more for Loki to park the car in the yard of a farm. Rose's eyes widened as she took a look at the different buildings, all in wood. He reached for Rose's coat on the back seat and gave it to her. He didn't put his on, only his scarf around his neck, as he left the car. She quickly followed him, struggling to put on her jacket. Even in the middle of July, the weather in Norway was pretty cold, something Rose had learnt to her cost, for she had only packed summer clothes.

Rose was still looking around her, amazed by the farm, when a long neigh startled her. Loki chuckled and, when she turned around to look at him, she saw him running toward the nearby field. With his usual cat-like movements, he jumped over the fence to face a black stallion and hid his face in the animal mane. As Rose leaned against the fence, she heard him speaking in Norwegian to the horse, which was happily snorting. It made her smile.

"I see how it goes. You'd rather say hello to your horse than to your old mum!"

The feminine voice, behind Rose, made Loki raise his head. He had a childish grin on his face, his arms around the horse's neck, and it surprised Rose to see how _young_ he looked. She'd seen Loki happy before – well, she'd brought delight to his face more than once, to her own pride – but this, this gleeful look of his, was totally new to her.

"Well, Sleipnir can't talk to me over the phone so..." he answered cheekily.

Rose turned around to face the woman, her nervous smile back on her lips. She was tall, just like her two sons, and had Thor's blond hair – or the other way around, it actually made more sense. She was smiling quietly, as if trying not to roll her eyes at her son. When her hazel eyes met Rose's, her smile grew bigger.

Loki jumped once more over the fence and came to take Rose hand in his – and she didn't miss his new beasty smell as his black hair was wildly falling in front of his eyes. He dragged her along until they were facing Frigga, and both women noticed the way he proudly raised his head and grinned as he said.

"Mamma, let me introduce you Rose Tyler, my fiancée."


	3. Transformation

There were many things Loki Odinson loved about Rose Tyler.

He loved her golden hair – dyed, for sure, as her brown roots were more or less obvious, and he would have died to see what she looked like as a brunette – and the way they shone in the late afternoon, when she was quietly reading by the window. He loved her eyes, all the emotions she could convey with a blink, a raise of a brow. He loved, oh so much, her smiles, her pink lips and the way she wasn't afraid of showing her teeth when she was grinning. He was in love with _that_ particular smile, the one with her tongue poking between her teeth.

He loved her wit and the fact she wasn't afraid to put him in his place if she had to, her cleverness and their endless discussions about art, her gentleness and the tea she would make him at the end of the day. He loved her mind, her soul, her everything. He loved seeing her with Sif, the way they'd lean toward one another to whisper and giggle like school girls, how they'd tell him off if he ever dared to ask what they were talking about. He loved when they agreed and loved when they fought, loved watching her sleeping and especially loved when she nuzzle his neck to distract him when he was reading.

He loved her entirely.

He was madly in love with her.

But what he loved the most – god forbad him in his egoism – was the difference between the Hannah Baxter he had met in the National Gallery, months ago, and the Rose Tyler she was now with him. He loved the influence he had on her and how their relationship had made her change – made her even better than she already was, in his opinion.

He loved the change in her clothes, from the wannabe business woman with lady suits and formal skirts, to the "dropout artist who doesn't care about getting her hands dirty" kind of look. It made her look younger, carefree, and he could barely hide what effect it had on him. Especially when she would walk around the flat only wearing shorts and one of _his_ white shirts and, oh, how obvious it was that she was wearing a black bra – or no bra at all, for it sometimes was that kind of a day.

He loved how she was painting again, something she had stopped when joining the police. Alone at first, locking herself in his workshop, never allowing him to see her paintings. But, little by little, she had started painting when he was around, then let him watch her as she did so, then let him admire her work. He knew it was a proof of her trust in him, for artists showing you their art was always something personal, intimate, and he would have never been able to thank her enough for that. He wanted to kiss her eyelids, kiss her cheeks, and simply tell her how much it mattered to him. He never did.

He loved how confident she was in his flat now, going from cupboards to cupboards in the kitchen, nestling in the couch as if it was hers – once she let him sit next to her and put her feet on his lap, eyes on her book, as if it was the most natural thing to do. "Make yourself at home" took all its full meaning now.

He had seen her full transformation, from little caterpillar to breathtaking Monarch butterfly, and he couldn't help but think that, even if she hadn't changed because of him, she had change around him.

It only made him fall for her even more.


	4. Summer

"I kinda hate you for that, ya know?"

They were laying down side by side on towels, him on his stomach, arms folded under his head, eyes close, only wearing a swimsuit and trying to tan his fair skin. She laid on her back, in nothing more than a bikini, toes digging in the sand and hands in the air as if trying to catch the inexistent clouds. He snorted at her words but didn't open his eyes.

"Wait until you see the chalet in the Alps. Then you'll be allowed to resent me."

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?"

"You sound _so_ chav when you're offended," he said, and he chuckled when she smacked him on the shoulder.

It had become a thing, a real proper thing. He would come back from 'work' – could they even call it that? – and would tell her to pack her things. Next thing she knew, she would be in Heathrow, looking at the massive billboard and wondering where the plane would bring her this time. She remembered Paris for her birthday and sweet kiss by the Eiffel tower, Sydney and swimming with dolphins, Los Angeles and... well Los Angeles and Loki stealing something, but it had been fun anyway.

This time was different, for it wasn't only a few days. She had packed for two weeks, only skirts and tank tops and bikinis, and found herself on a towel, in an inlet, on the Sardinian coast. Talk about mind-blowing holidays. She didn't know how much of the land belonged to him – "a lot" was a wild guess, as she knew the cottage was his – but it sickened her in some way. All those wonderful places he owed while he had never had a real job. But she wasn't one to complain if it meant free holidays and Italian sun. She was shallow like that.

"Have you planned something to do or are you just going to make fun of my accent for two weeks?"

"Well, I don't see why it should be one or the other."

"You're a moron."

"A moron you're in love with."

It was her time to snort. Lazily, he rose on his elbows, only to let himself fall on her and she barely even tried to push him away before settling to play with his hair. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sun on her skin and Loki against her, and wondered for what seemed to be the thousandth time how she had ended so lucky after all those year of her life being a mess. Far were the Doctor, the Daleks, New York. Shiny was the ring on her left hand. She sighed happily, Loki's head rising with her breath.

"You're hot," he said with a muffled voice, the one that meant he was about to fall asleep. "Not hot-_hot_, even if you're that too. You're warm. The snowman in me likes that."

She quietly giggled. It didn't take more than five minutes for Loki's breath to be steady and she knew he had fallen asleep on her breasts. She kept playing with his hair until the sun was low in the sky, not caring about the weird tan it would give them. He woke up when it was time to eat and brought her to some little restaurant in the nearby village.

They spent the two weeks on the beach, in the countryside, visiting all they had to see, tanning and playing in the water, making sweet love in the cottage and waking up at midday. He never stopped mocking her accent. She never expected him to stop.


	5. Order

Rose sat by the kitchen counter, a sketch book in front of her, her fingers playing with a pencil. She liked having five minutes for herself before diner time, just quickly drawing and slackening her fingers. It was her little routine, something she needed to do. And, of course, no one in this damn flat would give her five minutes of peace. Five minutes, it was all she needed…

"What about pizzas? Jubilee Pizza opened around the corner and I've heard good things about it."

"Gosh no, Sif, I'm so tired of eating Italian. Sushi sounds nice."

"Sushi? You know I'm a vegetarian, right?"

Knowing she wouldn't be able to relax until the two kids were done fighting, Rose dropped her pencil on the counter with a sigh and raised her head to look at them. They were annoying, yes, but there was something fascinating about watching Loki and Sif quarrel. Like everything they did in life, they were passionate about their arguments.

"Vegetarian? You're not a veggie! I saw you eating caviar at a gala!"

"Caviar is fish eggs, you idiot! I eat eggs!"

"Well, that's just plain stupid."

Rose did her best not to snort, not wanting to interrupt them. It was too entertaining for that. Sif had folded her arms on her chest and was now taping her foot on the kitchen's tiled floor, and Loki was rolling his eyes in such a theatrical way it lost its meaning and only looked funny. They were kids, nothing more than two kids fighting for a toy. And Rose was supposed to believe those were the two best art thieves in the country? Yeah, _as if_.

"_You_ are plain stupid. You're just acting like that because you don't want to agree with me!"

"That's not true!"

Sif let out a long annoyed growl and it wouldn't have surprised Rose to see her tearing her hair out. She even seemed to do so, raising her hands to her face, but it was only do make some weird movements with her fingers, stretching and bending them, and it wasn't hard to understand she wouldn't have mind Loki's throat near those fingers. He only glared at her with his most wonderful 'bitch please' face. Rose had to put a hand in front of her mouth not to chuckle loudly.

"You're a jerk!"

"You're a shrew!"

They kept throwing insults at one another's face for a while, probably not even aware Rose was watching them, her eyebrows raised. When she was finally fed up of their childish behaviour, she closed her sketch book and stood up, ready to lock herself in her room until they were done. She was about to leave the room, almost in the doorframe, when Loki said:

"Well, let's have Rose decide then!"

And suddenly they were both looking expectantly at her; and Rose's parents had never got a divorce, god blessed them, but she knew it was what kids had to fell like when they had to choose which parent they wanted to live with. Her eyes widen opened, she looked from Loki to Sif to Loki again, then thrown her arms in the air with a loud sigh.

"I want chips, okay? And if either of you complain, we're not going to Disney Land next week."

Too surprised by her sudden harsh tone, none of them dared say a word, even if Loki sulked through the whole meal. His mumbled 'we weren't even supposed to go to Disney Land' wasn't left unnoticed.


	6. Snowflake

She stood by the window, a blanket around her shoulders, a mug of tea in her hands, still and silent. She reminded him of that Elf queen, the one from those famous books, standing at the top of a cliff by a river, long blond hair falling in her back. He didn't know how long Rose had been there, only watching the snowing falling on London. Minutes, a whole hour maybe. He knew better than to annoy her or ask her if something was wrong. Because something _was_ wrong and he knew she would only speak about it when she would be ready for it. All he had to do was waiting. So waiting he did.

It was time to eat, hours later, the sky dark now, and she hadn't moved a toe. Her tea was long cold when he finally found the nerve to come near her and lightly touch her shoulder. She didn't jump but looked at him, and the surprise in her eyes couldn't be missed, along with sadness – she looked miserable. "Barcelona," she whispered, and he thought her about to cry, her eyes bright with tears. He opened his arms and she huddled up against him, let him rub her back and run a hand through her hair.

It was about the Doctor. He didn't have to ask, he just knew.

It always was about the Doctor.

When she took a step back, she sniffed and wiped her nose with the corner of the blanket. He smiled, a perfect smile hiding his wince, as he mentally noted to throw the blanket in the washing machine as soon as he could. He kissed her forehead, which made her smile – even weakly – too.

"Don't move."

He ran outside the room only to come back minutes later, and he put a hat on her head, swaddled her in a big fluffy scarf and poked her nose. He didn't know if her giggle was genuine or nervous, but it didn't stop him from pushing her to the lift, then through the hall until they were outside. She rolled her eyes at him when he opened his arms and spun around like a child, poking his tongue out to catch the snowflakes. She folded her arms and shook her head when she realised he was only wearing a tee-shirt.

"You're going to catch the flu, clever boy."

"Am not! I'm Norwegian, remember? It's not a little snow that's going to make me sick."

His skin was already coloured weirdly, thought, a strange purple turning blue with cold, and she was damn sure he was going to fall sick over night and whine for the next days. He was such a wuss sometimes.

"Come on, Rose! It's the first snow of the year, have some fun!"

She rolled her eyes once more but took a step toward him, from the building's doorframe to the street, then another one, and another, until she was standing in the middle of the pavement. She looked up to the sky, little white flakes falling on her, and finally offered her first real smile of the night. She spun around, over and over again, until she felt dizzy and almost fell into Loki's arms. She started giggling and he laughed with her as he kissed her cold cheeks.

"Thank you."

"What for, my love?" he asked as he played with her scarf.

"Being there."


	7. Denial

Rose Tyler wasn't in love with Loki Odinson. What a stupid idea, really.

Rose Tyler wasn't one to believe in love at first sight, soul mates, and all those things made up for girls to expect the prince would come and marry her. Jackie Tyler had made sure not to teach her daughter those kinds of things, reading Dr Seuss as bed time stories and royally ignoring the Brothers Grimm's tales. Rose had never suffered from this lack in her life, and she had never felt the need to play with Barbie Dolls – she like tea parties with her teddy bears, though.

Rose Tyler hadn't been raised thinking one day she would be married and living happily ever after. And, to be honest, she only believed in love because of her parents and their thirty years as a couple. But they were the exception, not the rule. Because, if one thing was sure, it was the fact Rose Tyler wasn't one to fall in love.

Ever.

Her relationship with Mickey had only been a teenagers thing, everything but serious. They both knew they wouldn't end together – maybe she knew it more than him. Finding the love of your life when you're a teenager, it was almost impossible. A story about rules and exceptions, once again. She liked Mickey a big deal, yes. She even loved him, she never doubted it. But she wasn't in love with him. It was just kissed, and hand holdings, and going to the theatre together. They had lost their virginity to one another but, really, it was just an experiment, and it was awkward and not that good – she didn't know all first times were like that.

Her relationship with Jimmy Stone had been... a mess. She was young and stupid, and so impressionable. And he played the guitar. Which seventeen year old girl didn't like a mysterious musician? But it had been a mess, her first – and last – time running away. She wasn't in love with him. It was the most dangerous kind of relationship, with a lot of giving and not so much taking, and he had manipulated her so much it could only end in tears. She had cried for a whole week then had sworn to Cupid she would never fall in love again. Ever.

And then came the Doctor. She fell head over heels for him, before she could even stop. She was in love, for the first time in her life, and it was wonderful. Because the Doctor loved her back, even if he never told her, even if they never dated, never were a couple. But who cared about that. They were so much more than a couple. They were the exception to the rule. But he broke her heart and ran away. She never stopped loving him. How could she?

And now there was Loki Odinson.

But she wasn't in love with him. Obviously.

She didn't love his hair, or his narrow hips, or his cheekbones. She didn't love his green eyes, his dark hair, or his beautiful smile. She didn't love him, seriously, he was everything but her type of guy anyway. Because she had a type, yeah she had, even if she didn't know what this type was exactly. But she was sure "ruggedly handsome thief with a god complex" _obviously_ wasn't her type.

She was a cop, she was a professional. She had been under-cover before – more than once – and it was only part of the job, the pretending. She was pretending to be attracted to Loki Odinson, for the sake of her mission. She was pretending the butterflies in her stomach when he smiled at her or did something nice for her. She was pretending the red on her cheeks when he complimented her and what a good actress she was, seriously. The Bafta was all hers.

Because Rose Tyler wasn't in love with Loki Odinson.

Obviously.


End file.
